Letters
by Hoverboard33219
Summary: "Dear Evan Hansen: Today is going to be a good day, and here's why." Over the summer, Evan Hansen begins writing himself letters, capturing the essence of his summer, and perhaps the decision to let go. Dear Evan Hansen, should update every Friday (except on breaks). TW: suicidal thoughts, attempted suicide
1. Chapter 1

Dear Evan Hansen:

Today is going to be a good day and here's why. Because today, is the last day of school! Today you can, like, get your yearbook signed. And today, you get to see who won some of the most-likely-to vote things. Those are cool.

Do you remember last year? You wanted to ask Zoe Murphy to sign your yearbook, but you got scared and you puked in the bathroom. I—I don't know why I brought that up. That was a—that was a bad idea to bring that up.

But last year, nobody would sign your yearbook and Zoe and all of the popular people were milling around in the cafeteria, signing each other's yearbooks, and you were standing alone in the hallway, and the scary kid who wears dark gray, Connor Murphy, was getting something out of his locker and you were so desperate you almost asked him to sign it. Almost. Then this girl, your partner for an English assignment in the beginning of the year, she came out and took out her yearbook and a Sharpie pen and she, and she asked Connor Murphy to sign her yearbook and he wrote Connor in really big letters on her autographs page of her yearbook and she looked a bit upset and you thought _well, at least I didn't ask him to sign my yearbook_.

And then Connor and the girl, her name was Alana, I think, Alana Beck, left and then you, and then you saw Jared Kleinman, your friend, come out, and you asked him if anyone had signed his yearbook, and he said, he said, "Yeah, wanna see?" and you looked, and Jared said, he kept talking, he said, "I got some popular girls to sign it" and kept talking and saying things like that and then you looked at it and you saw that all of those girls had signed messages like **Fuck you Jared** and stuff like that and you told him and his eyes puffed up and you said "I'm sorry, Jared" and you signed his yearbook, you just wrote **Evan Hansen** and he signed yours, and his was the only one on your page and his eyes were still puffy and then he started crying and then you started crying and then you both got paper towels and dabbed your eyes and ate lunch in the hallway.

But summer—summer is going to be so great, you don't even have to worry about it. Because, you, you were so lucky to get into Ellison Park's apprentice ranger program, and you're going to have so much fun, and, and, and do you remember when Mom told you? She looked so excited and she looked you in the eye, in the eye, and she said to you, she said, she said "Evan, I'm so proud of you". And then you started crying—goddammit, you cry too much—and she hugged you and then she saw an old picture of you up and she said, "You've grown up so much, Evan" and she started crying too and she said "If your dad was here, he'd be proud of you, too" and you cried again and it reminded you of the time you did a boy scout project to build a chicken coop and you, and you helped work on it and you were so proud at the end.

And the pool! The pool will probably be open, and you can swim all around and you can learn to swim, and…

Yeah, to be honest, it's really pathetic you don't know how to swim.

Anyway you probably have stuff to work on, Evan…wait, you don't. You don't have homework, it's the last day of school today!

Do you remember two days ago, your last appointment with Dr. Lois? Next week, on your first day as a junior ranger, you also have your first appointment with a new doctor, a guy called Dr. Sherman? Remember? Dr. Lois got all teary and said "Evan. When I say goodbye to my patients, I always read them a little something I write. Anyway, here yours is" and she cleared her throat, and you got all excited to hear how much you've grown, and she said "Evan, you were, by far, my most difficult patient. You were never willing to go that extra mile, or take one for the team. You would never step into the sun, or step into the spotlight, or take a risk. You'd slip away to avoid slipping up. And you'd never share anything. I am thoroughly glad to see you go" and then you realized it was a dream. So you went to the appointment, and you talked, and you didn't tell her about that dream, and at the end she said "Goodbye, Evan" and nothing else and you left and it was better than nothing and definitely better than what she said in your dream.

On the upside, Dr. Sherman might stop making you write these goddam letters to yourself. Just a maybe.

And Jared's going to some cool summer camp, because he has two incomes, his mom, and his dad, and he's going to probably be fine. Jared's a really great friend because he didn't bully you like everyone else. Like, ten years ago. Or five years ago. Or…

Anyway, nobody else seemed to care that much about you. Jared did. He cared that you were, like, ok, and like, like, like, alive. Or whatever. You have a friend. Like. Not to brag, but you have a friend…

But seriously, have a good summer. You deserve it. Have a great summer and do everything you can on your apprenticeship. You'll learn a lot. And you love trees, so it works. You'll have a great time. Do you remember when you went to summer camp last year, and on your first day, you asked your counselor, who was like, twenty-five, and you asked him if you had nametags, and he said "You're a little turd" and you didn't talk to him for the rest of camp, even when you got stung by two wasps and threw up three times. But that was, like, no biggie.

Maybe next year, maybe next year you'll get to introduce yourself to Zoe Murphy. Maybe you'll get to talk to her. And maybe…maybe you'll get the courage ask her out.

But that doesn't matter. Just. Don't forget me. Keep writing me.

Sincerely,

Your second-best and second-most dearest friend,

Me


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Evan Hansen:

Today is going to be a good day and here's why. Because, um, today, you get to just be yourself. No responsibility. Nothing. No jobs, no chores, no homework. It's the first day of summer! Plus, Dr. Sherman emailed you about the letters, after Mom said to him that you were wondering about that, and he suggested doing them once or twice a week instead.

It—It doesn't matter. Just. Do what makes you comfortable.

What the hell? You can't do what makes you comfortable! Mom would be so disappointed in you!

…and this letter doesn't even make sense. No sense at all. Just random thoughts, huh, Evan? Random thoughts. A really bad idea to just write random thoughts.

Maybe…maybe nobody is even going to notice, though. Mom doesn't read your letters. Dr. Sherman is super famous, like, in the therapy world, or profession, or whatever, like, just everyone who has therapy. He only takes "special cases" or cases that he thinks will present him with a unique challenge, and, like, you remember, like, Dr. Sherman said you were going to be really hard, and Mom looked upset, but then Dr. Sherman said he'd take you and Mom was so grateful. But, he still, like, has a lot of patients. Like, a _lot_ of patients. And so he won't notice, he probably, like, won't really read your letters too well, and maybe, I don't know, maybe, he still, like, won't pay attention. Or maybe, even, he won't read them. Maybe he'll say "Why the hell would I waste my time with this?"

Maybe nobody cares about your letters.

Maybe nobody cares.

Hey! Look on the bright side, Evan. Maybe Dr. Sherman _will_ care. I mean, maybe he won't, but maybe he will. Don't be getting so negative. Dr. Lois said getting negative makes you go down deep, and she's had far too many patients who get stuck so deep. And you said, you said, and this was so silly, you, like, shouldn't have said this, but you did say it, and you, you said, "Like who? Anyone I know?" and she looked at you, and she, she looked at you, and she, she laughed and she said "I can't tell you that, Evan, you know that!" And you felt so guilty for saying that and you apologized ten billion times.

And on your way out that day, sitting in the waiting room, was none other than Zoe Murphy's older brother, Connor Murphy, the boy with the long hair who paints his nails. Well, back then he sure as hell didn't paint his nails. He had shorter hair, about normal length for a boy. Longer than yours, though, and going down rather than up. But he, he looked at you, and he, he, he _snorted_ , and he said, "What?" and you said, you, you, you said, "Nothing." And you thought that was an ok response but he snorted again and looked away, and then Dr. Lois looked at you and shrugged.

Jared heads off to camp in three days. You remember how you told him you thought that was really quick for someone to be leaving for summer camp and he looked at you, and he looked at you, and he said, he said, um, "And you're an expert on this, Hansen?" And before you could respond, he said, "I didn't realize you had your PhD in summer vacation planning. I thought you had it in being socially awkward and trees. My mistake, Dr. Hansen." And you didn't think it was that funny, or at least, not nearly up to Jared's usual standards, but you just did what you always do. Act stupid. And, Dr. Sherman, or whoever ends up reading this, I know you'll say "Don't call yourself stupid, Evan, it's not constructive" or whatever but you said to be honest with myself. And who knows. Maybe I'll give you other, fake letters. And keep the real stuff to myself.

And keep the real _me_ to myself.

Evan, you know therapy is supposed to be for _you_ and supposed to be _your_ space, but really, therapy costs. Especially a rich, _special_ therapist like Dr. Sherman. You can't afford to keep doing therapy. Not if you want to go to college. So get better. Fake it till you make it. Or something.

It's like you're climbing a mountain. The top. It's your goal. You have to reach the top. Reach the top, all your problems are gone. You're good. Perfect. Or at least, _normal_. A normal kid with normal problems. At the beginning, it's easy. Easy to climb. Easy to reach for new steps, new footholds, new handholds. And each step, it's like it's a mile. Soon, you're high up, with little to no effort. But then it gets hard. Then it gets harder, harder to find good footholds. And you're tired. Unbearably tired, tired of taking steps. And yeah, there are ledges and places to take breaks. But they don't _really_ help. What you need is to stop. And you want to keep going, sure. All your friends and family tell you to keep going. "Just find another foothold," they say. But they don't know what they're talking about, Evan Hansen, oh, no they don't. They think it's easy. "We understand," they say. But they don't, not when they've never climbed the mountain by themselves. And then it gets very hard. You can't bear to take another step. But you do. Just one, let's say. _They say_. But you look down, and it feels like you're still at the same place. You haven't climbed any higher and you aren't up any higher and the mountain is still as looming and as menacing as anything. Everything. And sure, you could take another step but do you want to? No. Can you? Sure, but it's so fucking _hard_ , and nobody else can understand. It's so hard, and you know you aren't any closer to the top of the mountain. And you won't be if you take that step. So you do baby steps. Moving a foot. Shuffling your hands. And even if you take a giant step, and nearly die in the process, you aren't any fucking closer to the top of the mountain. You can wait. You can take a tiny rest. But then you're a bit further down, finding a ridge and all that. Plus, you aren't any less tired. So you can keep going, or drop. Let yourself fall. Let go of the mountain. Nobody wants you to take that path. But do they really care? Would it really be so bad if you let go of your handhold, and pushed yourself off of the mountain? Not necessarily to the bottom. You can either fall back a good deal of the way, down to the creek a hundred feet below you, or all the way down to stop climbing forever.

Sincerely,

The only one who understands you,

Me


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Evan Hansen:

Today is going to be a good day and here's why. Because today, today is your second day as an apprentice park ranger!

Yeah. Things went pretty, um, pretty well, I, I, I think. The ranger, Adam Maxwell. Remember when Jared called you a stalker because you read his bio and did an internet search on him? You didn't think you were a stalker, but Jared probably knows what he's talking about.

Yesterday, you ran into Connor Murphy at the supermarket. He looked you up and down, and you, you were wearing your favorite jacket, the gray jacket, and Connor said, "Nice jacket." And you were pretty happy because that meant he liked it, but then you realized that that wasn't a good thing because people made fun of the way Connor dressed and if he liked it that meant other people didn't but, well, you didn't really give much of a shit.

But, the ranger. Adam. You asked him lots of questions, but they, like, were, like, smart, intelligent, _smart_ questions, not dumb I-don't-know-what-I'm-doing questions. Because, not to brag, but you _do_ know what you're doing. Not just anyone gets accepted into the apprentice ranger program. Right?

Jared sent you a postcard. It wasn't much, it just said, "I bet I'm having a lot more fun than you, Tree Boy". At least he sent you a postcard. You've got a _good_ friend. A _best_ friend.

Some days, it just feels like things can't go on the way they have been. Like yeah, right now there's a rhythm, but it's going to stop very soon and you don't want to see what's on the other side. It's not going to be a pleasant sight. It might be a sight that tears you apart.

Anyway, that's all for today. It's short, yeah, and I'll try to write you longer letters, but I've got to go to work now!

Sincerely,

Me


End file.
